MELITA
For a few seconds more, the youth was still stunned to fathom the hows and whys of the golem’s appearance – stunned, stupefied perhaps, by the agonizing pain coursing through her knee. It ricocheted and pummeled its way through her bones, so much that her head pounded, excruciating, her breath coming in short, feral gasps, until Loren’s apology seemed to ghost through the air. Then she slowly put two and two together.
She watched, disbelief beginning to settle over her features where misery had been. While his hands glowed blue and the stifling, smoldering, sizzling despondency began to recede, her mind reeled, eyes blinking rapidly. “You – you did that? Why?” Had he somehow brought forth the rocky fists and the thundering, massive body, intending to strike her down, intending to immerse her into torment and anguish? For what reason? What had she done? Hadn’t he asked to train? Hadn’t he asked to implore staffs into techniques? What had this been all about? She’d never been asked to exercise or instruct in such a matter; there’d always been a layer of trust, faith, and conviction, a certainty that the other wasn’t aiming to maim, rip, or tear – but educate (except for her and Kiada; but that was from leagues of history and bitterness).
The confusion gave way to clarity, and clarity gave way to a pulsing, pervading sensation of rage. It spiked and seared along her veins, until her hands were no longer trembling with the fervent, numbing conjectures, but wrath and vehemence – eyes narrowing, the only warning sign he’d receive. “What’s your problem?” The intonations bit and scorched, a fine lacing of ferocity entangling and emboldening its way across her tongue, behind her teeth, where they became savage and intertwined with her sudden, exploding abhorrence. It might not have been a touch of the blight at all – but simply her, bewildered and irritated, exasperated that her trust had been betrayed, deceived, and bludgeoned.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
